<strong>The</strong> <strong>Schoolmaster</strong> & <strong>other</strong> <strong>stories</strong>squinting at them. He squinted with the left eye.“What Pavel Alex<strong>and</strong>ritch?”“<strong>The</strong> actor; he comes here every Tuesday…. He musthave put on yours instead of his own…. So I must haveput both pairs in her room, his <strong>and</strong> yours. Here’s a go!”“<strong>The</strong>n go <strong>and</strong> change them!”“That’s all right!” sniggered Semyon, “go <strong>and</strong> changethem…. Where am I to find him now? He went off anhour ago…. Go <strong>and</strong> look for the wind in the fields!”“Where does he live then?”“Who can tell? He comes here every Tuesday, <strong>and</strong>where he lives I don’t know. He comes <strong>and</strong> stays thenight, <strong>and</strong> then you may wait till next Tuesday….”“<strong>The</strong>re, do you see, you brute, what you have done?Why, what am I to do now? It is time I was at Madamela Générale Shevelitsyn’s, you anathema! My feet arefrozen!”“You can change the boots before long. Put on theseboots, go about in them till the evening, <strong>and</strong> in theevening go to the theatre…. Ask there for Blistanov, theactor…. If you don’t care to go to the theatre, you willhave to wait till next Tuesday; he only comes here onTuesdays….”“But why are there two boots for the left foot?” askedthe piano-tuner, picking up the boots with an air of disgust.“What God has sent him, that he wears. Through poverty… where is an actor to get boots? I said to him‘What boots, Pavel Alex<strong>and</strong>ritch! <strong>The</strong>y are a positivedisgrace!’ <strong>and</strong> he said: ‘Hold your peace,’ says he, ‘<strong>and</strong>turn pale! In those very boots,’ says he, ‘I have playedcounts <strong>and</strong> princes.’ A queer lot! Artists, that’s the onlyword for them! If I were the governor or anyone in comm<strong>and</strong>,I would get all these actors together <strong>and</strong> clapthem all in prison.”Continually sighing <strong>and</strong> groaning <strong>and</strong> knitting hisbrows, Murkin drew the two left boots on to his feet,<strong>and</strong> set off, limping, to Madame la GénéraleShevelitsyn’s. He went about the town all day long tuningpianos, <strong>and</strong> all day long it seemed to him that everyonewas looking at his feet <strong>and</strong> seeing his patched bootswith heels worn down at the sides! Apart from his moral110
Anton Tchekhovagonies he had to suffer physically also; the boots gavehim a corn.In the evening he was at the theatre. <strong>The</strong>re was a performanceof Bluebeard. It was only just before the lastact, <strong>and</strong> then only thanks to the good offices of a manhe knew who played a flute in the orchestra, that hegained admittance behind the scenes. Going to the men’sdressing-room, he found there all the male performers.Some were changing their clothes, <strong>other</strong>s were paintingtheir faces, <strong>other</strong>s were smoking. Bluebeard was st<strong>and</strong>ingwith King Bobesh, showing him a revolver.“You had better buy it,” said Bluebeard. “I bought itat Kursk, a bargain, for eight roubles, but, there! I willlet you have it for six…. A wonderfully good one!”“Steady…. It’s loaded, you know!”“Can I see Mr. Blistanov?” the piano-tuner asked ashe went in.“I am he!” said Bluebeard, turning to him. “What doyou want?”“Excuse my troubling you, sir,” began the piano-tunerin an imploring voice, “but, believe me, I am a man indelicate health, rheumatic. <strong>The</strong> doctors have ordered meto keep my feet warm …”“But, speaking plainly, what do you want?”“You see,” said the piano-tuner, addressing Bluebeard.“Er … you stayed last night at Buhteyev’s furnishedapartments … No. 64 …”“What’s this nonsense?” said King Bobesh with a grin.“My wife is at No. 64.”“Your wife, sir? Delighted….” Murkin smiled. “It wasshe, your good lady, who gave me this gentleman’sboots…. After this gentleman—” the piano-tuner indicatedBlistanov—“had gone away I missed my boots….I called the waiter, you know, <strong>and</strong> he said: ‘I left yourboots in the next room!’ By mistake, being in a state ofintoxication, he left my boots as well as yours at 64,”said Murkin, turning to Blistanov, “<strong>and</strong> when you leftthis gentleman’s lady you put on mine.”“What are you talking about?” said Blistanov, <strong>and</strong> hescowled. “Have you come here to libel me?”“Not at all, sir—God forbid! You misunderst<strong>and</strong> me.What am I talking about? About boots! You did stay111
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THESCHOOLMASTER&OTHER STORIESBYANTO
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ContentsTHE SCHOOLMASTER...........
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Anton TchekhovTHESCHOOLMASTER&OTHER
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Anton Tchekhovran out of the house,
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Anton TchekhovAt dinner Sysoev was
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Anton Tchekhovbeen born a teacher.
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Anton TchekhovENEMIESBETWEEN NINE A
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Anton Tchekhovthe drawing-room seem
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Anton TchekhovAbogin followed him a
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Anton Tchekhova pond, on which grea
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Anton Tchekhovsnug, pretty little d
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Anton Tchekhovshrugged his shoulder
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Anton Tchekhovspendthrift who canno
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Anton TchekhovTHE EXAMINING MAGISTR
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Anton Tchekhovwith an unpleasant sm
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Anton Tchekhovfidelity. His wife lo
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Anton Tchekhovshadows lay on the gr
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Anton Tchekhovshe said and got up.
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Anton TchekhovIIWHEN NADYA WOKE UP
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Anton Tchekhovdown. Nina Ivanovna p
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Anton TchekhovIIIIN THE MIDDLE of J
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Anton TchekhovLatin master or a mem
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Anton Tchekhovutter a word; she gav
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Anton Tchekhovstill warm bed, looke
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Anton Tchekhov“Oh, dear!” cried
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Anton Tchekhovit were through a pri
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Anton TchekhovFROM THE DIARY OFA VI
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Anton Tchekhovlabours every morning
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Anton Tchekhov“Nicolas,” sighs
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- Page 75 and 76: Anton TchekhovFedyukov was, Navagin
- Page 77 and 78: Anton TchekhovThe spiritualistic la
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- Page 81 and 82: Anton Tchekhovyer maintained that I
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- Page 87 and 88: Anton Tchekhov“Ah, the parasite!
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- Page 91 and 92: Anton TchekhovTHE MARSHAL’S WIDOW
- Page 93 and 94: Anton TchekhovThe lunch is certainl
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- Page 115 and 116: Anton TchekhovMitya put on his cap
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- Page 121 and 122: Anton Tchekhovfor nothing …. Five
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- Page 125 and 126: Anton Tchekhov“How are you?”“
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- Page 133 and 134: Anton Tchekhovand progress…” ad
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- Page 139 and 140: Anton TchekhovA TRIPPING TONGUENATA
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- Page 147 and 148: Anton TchekhovTHE ORATORONE FINE MO
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Anton Tchekhovand as he usually did
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Anton Tchekhovter dinner. Oh, Mila,
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Anton Tchekhov“No, not perhaps, b
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Anton Tchekhovthe fatal thought of